Kalua

His father was a king,
his grandfather too,
and his great grandfather greater still.

The tiger cub hid in the thickets,
waiting for Mother to return
from her hunt in the meadows.
Would it be a chital, a sambar deer,
or a langur monkey?
Monkeys were his favourite.

Mother and Brother,
the only familiar things
in a perilous forest.
Monitor lizards and peacocks
startled him at first.
When he grew bigger
they fled as he approached.

His teeth and claws became blades,
and his prey's hide was no longer tough.
He sharpened his claws for battle
and flexed his tail and whiskers,
his eyes fixed on Father's domain.

Father had ruled the forest
with scars to remind others
of those who dared contest him.
His son refined his weaponry,
and his roar, but in his heart
he was still a cub.

Father and Son met on the ridge,
silhouetted in the amber glare.
Son emerged with scars of his own,
to remind him of Father's supremacy.
Maybe the forest beyond the meadows
would have a kingdom waiting for him.

The Tiger Poet

(This poem is a tribute to the tiger known as Kalua, the Prince of Bandhavgarh, who I encountered four years ago. A reading will be available on my YouTube channel soon.)